He’s not rude, or careless, or heartless. Or anything people tend to assume when they meet him for the first time. Yoongi might carry himself with a kind of distant cool, his words often laced with dry sarcasm and his expressions unreadable, but beneath all that, he can be the softest, most attentive person in the room. He doesn’t show it in grand gestures. It’s in the small things, things one might miss if they weren’t paying close attention. But Yoongi always was. Especially when it came to the people he cared about.

It’s been weeks since they’ve been preparing for their comeback, and the group is still not as far as they probably needed to be. Though how could they be? On top of all the interviews, rehearsals, stages, and few fan signs, it all seemed to just blend together into a haze of movement and noise, making it hard to tell when anyone last had a real moment to just breathe and relax. Everyone’s tired, that’s an obvious fact, almost expected for their line of work. But some are wearing it worse than others. You, especially.

Yoongi’s noticed it creeping in slowly as the days passed by, slowly, yet somehow quick too. The way your shoulders slouch more than they used to. How your smile comes slower, doesn’t quite reach your eyes. The way your laugh, usually so quick, so bright, now comes quieter and for a shorter amount of time, like it costs something to let it out. You’ve been moving like someone underwater lately, deliberate, but heavy. And your plate, more often than not, stays as full as the groups schedule. Like most nights, and tonight.

"Not hungry, or does it not look appealing?" Namjoon’s voice cuts through the low hum of conversation, not unkind, but gently pointed. From the other side of the table, Yoongi watches you blink up from your plate, your chopsticks paused in the rice like you’d forgotten they were even in your hand. There’s a split-second delay before you respond. Barely a shrug, your lips parting to say something before you think better of it and just give a small, sheepish shake of your head.

Yoongi sees it all. The subtle flicker in your expression when you realize everyone’s watching now. The way you immediately look back down, as if trying to disappear into your food. The others don’t press, thank god. The conversation shifts quickly, Seokjin moving on with a joke and someone else laughing a beat too loudly. But Yoongi doesn’t move on. He keeps watching. Quietly. Carefully. He’s seen this before. The quiet withdrawal. The missing pieces of someone’s spark. The way you’re here but not really. And the worst part is, he knows you won’t talk about it. Not now. Not in front of the others. Maybe not at all. But he also knows you don’t need someone to press. Not someone to demand answers, or offer forced comfort. Sometimes, you just need someone to notice.

He looks down at his own bowl, half-finished, and pushes it slightly to the side. His appetite isn’t great either, but that’s not the point. He’s already thinking of ways to check in later, when the others are gone, when the noise has settled, when it’s just the two of you. No pressure. No expectations. Just space for you to be whatever version of yourself you are right now. Because he cares, so much more than he lets on. And if you couldn’t find the words for whatever it was, you didn’t have to. he was already listening.